


we are still learning

by orphan_account



Series: seventh-grade lovers [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was in fifth grade, he knew exactly what love looked like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are still learning

**Author's Note:**

> Someone requested me to write something based on the poem "When Love Arrives" and asked me to, like, really incorporate the poem into the story if I can, so here we go! Please listen to the poem, it's really amazing. 
> 
> also, on the other hand, "ALSO, IM WAITING FOR YOU TO WRITE DAISUGA, I CANT BELIEVE YOUR USERNAME IS DAISUGA AND YOU HAVENT WRITTEN ANY DAISUGA IM LAUGHING"
> 
> here u go!!

When he was in fifth grade, he knew exactly what love looked like.

If Love walked in his homeroom class, he'd recognize her as first glance. Love wore a tight french braid. Love played the piano, took ballet classes and wore simple make-up. Sawamura Daichi just knew that the moment he saw her, he'd recognize her, and they'd fall in love, and it'd be as if they'd always known each other.

Except when he finally met Love, she wore a short haircut and loved playing volleyball. Love wore a bright smile and her uniform blazer always rolled up with her sleeves. Love tended to slap her cheeks to focus. Love was Michimiya Yui, a powerhouse, a battery, a never-ending source of energy. She's enthusiastic and just about as loud as the next guy, brown eyes always bright.

She was the one who painted his middle school years bright, along with Ikejiri, and he could still remember how soft her hair was and how their teeth clashed whenever they trie to kiss. 

Michimiya was a friend, a lover and a supporter, through and through. 

 

 

 

But Love disappeared, slowly. It was clean, silent and almost unconscious, like the snow falling down at January in Japan. They graduated, and Love retreated, even if Yui stayed. It hid itself from Daichi, and the next time it showed itself to him, he almost couldn't recognize it.

Love appeared, now at high school, with a different beauty mark. Love was much more mature-looking now, soft and voice with a certain timbre. Love still played volleyball, but Love, at that time, was standing next to him in like, smile nervous and hands clasped. 

Daichi never considered it, but Love came back, harder than ever but still familiar, in a form of a silver-haired, gentle freshman that turned to him, smiled, and said, "Are you nervous, too?"

He swore, the boy was shining. Totally shining. And he's falling.

Totally falling, and he didn't even know his name.

 

* * *

 

 

Sugawara Koushi first met Love in the Karasuno High's gym. 

It'll mark them for ages, he thought, blinking at the boy that collided with him while trying to receive a spike from the other side of the court. It was self-training time, and Sugawara was just setting silently when a heavy body collided with him, apparently unable to hear the "Look out!" yelled by some other players.

It was so cliche, actually, now that he remembered; how he fell in love the moment he saw his chiseled face and his concerned, amber eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," he managed to stutter out, feeling even the nape of his neck heat up. He took his hand that hoisted him up--it was incredibly soft. "Thank you."

"No, it's okay, I'm sorry," He then laughed, and Suga just swooned. Hard. Like a tidal wave swishing back and worth between rocks. Like a typhoon that can't seem to move out of a country.

He never thought about what Love looks like, before, but now, amber eyes and black hair, wearing a locket necklace, he thought, _ah, so this is what it looks like._

 

 

 

 

Wakaru-senpai, graduated without knowing his feelings.

"I guess that's how it's supposed to be," Sugawara said, leaning on Daichi's shoulder. Almost a full-year's worth of knowing each other, and they're already almost inseparable. "Maybe there are some kind of loves that are not meant to be said." 

He missed how Daichi stiffened, red on his cheeks and lips pouting.

 

 

 

It's stupid, he thought, that the next time he saw Love, it's not a new face. There's nothing new and unfamiliar; only touches that he already knew even before he twisted his head to see whom it belongs to. Only a voice that he had already heard countless of times in different ways through different mediums saying different things. Yet, when it came to him like a strong wind whooshing against his face, it all felt brand new, like something just imprinted itself on him, sewing itself into his heart, making him turn red and flustered. 

Worse, he realized this during an argument.

An argument that he can't really remember, anymore, but who cares when he interrupted Daichi while the other was mid-ranting, tugging his sleeves down?

Who cares when he, for some unknown reason, stared at Daichi wide-eyed, voice hushed when he whispered "I like you"?

Who cares about the argument when you have them staring at each other stupidly, body flushed all over, frozen upon the realization of what Sugawara just did?

 

 

"M-Me...too?"

It took forever before Daichi could say those words, swallowing audibly, nervously. He dipped his head down, and kissed Suga. 

 

* * *

 

The whole time Suga was in love with Wakaru, Daichi played the part of the good-best-friend-that-stays-as-the-wingman, despite his feelings. It's ridiculous, the whole thing; it's like he's in seventh grade again, always scanning the hallways, looking inside the classroom--except this time he's not looking for a tight french braid, but for a boy who wore his smile like it was his armor. It's a million-dollar question as to why Daichi kept on falling in love with bright, illuminated people who could probably light up a whole town with just their laugh. He wondered, slightly amused, while running his fingers through Sugawara Koushi's hair, looking down to study his features.

Beauty mark. Soft, white skin. Unchapped lips and silky hair. Even while asleep, he looks like an angel.

 _This is it,_ he thought, _this is what Love looks like._

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

 

 

 

Their teeth didn't clash whenever they kissed.

Instead, their mouths fit each other like puzzle pieces. Like long lost siblings meeting by chance at the station while on the way to Miyagi prefecture. Love touched him as if his hands were made to touch him, made to caress him. And he was bright, so bright, as always, even when he's under him, in the middle of Daichi's dark room, nervous but happy. He's bright, but not like how Yui was. 

Michimiya was like always serving at a match point--it was exciting and exhilarating and everything was perfect in a way where there's both adrenaline and familiarity, terribly divided in him yet still managing to make a pleasant combination. It was like stepping into another country with your home packed in your suitcase. It was like speaking a foreign language that you somehow became fluent with. Being with Michimiya was like opening a surprise package where you have a list of what you're going to get, and yet, you're still surprised when you see it.

Sugawara was like coming home after a long trip only to find new things in the house. Sugawara was soothing, refreshing; familiar yet new. He's like a song that you get stuck with so bad that whenever you sing it, you invent another tune for it. Sugawara was like the heart of every orchestra. Sugawara was like watching a lover sleep at six am, when the sun drew pastel pink rays. You've known everything about it, mapped all of it with your touch, scribbled your name on it--but you've never fully encased it. It expands, it grows, it fosters.

And as he unravels him, he falls deeper every time.

Daichi does not care.

 

* * *

 

 

He stood there in the middle of the room, which was vacant. The walls were painted white and the floor tiled with varnished hard oak. He could smell wood and a faint fragrance of roses. He dropped his luggage and walked into the middle.

The sun went through the window, and the noise from outside didn't reach him. 

The scorching heat of the summer, too, didn't reach him.

 

Instead, what he felt was this:

  * The cold air from the air-con touching his arms
  * The adult atmosphere rising up from the room, meeting his very being
  * Arms wrapping themselves around his waist
  * Forehead resting on the nape of his neck



 

And what he hears was this:

  * The beating of his heart
  * The way his lungs expand, then collapse
  * The soft lull of the air-con
  * Dainty footsteps coming up from behind him
  * "We'll stay here until we get a job after college."



 

He could feel the smile pressed against his back, along with a kiss. He could feel his own smile, too.

 

Love stayed for a long, long time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to make a whole damn series of fics based on this poem, so stay tuned!! if u want to. you can also [suggest pairs and give me prompts!!](http://tsukishima.co.vu/ask%22)
> 
> also dw i most probably got your prompt--i'm just reaaally, really slow in making them ;; A ;;;


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